


A Little Extra

by incorrectbatfam



Category: DCU (Comics), OTA Comics, Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26226697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incorrectbatfam/pseuds/incorrectbatfam
Summary: “It’s okay, hermano. You can eat however much you want here.”
Relationships: Bart Allen & Jaime Reyes, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41





	A Little Extra

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [this comic](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/677410) by otter-the-author. 
  * Inspired by [this headcanon](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/677413) by poepoe-thebunny. 



**_“It’s okay, hermano. You can eat however much you want here.”_ **

* * *

How did Jaime not see it before?

The swiping, the stashing, the almost manic obsession with when the next meal was going to be. The Chicken Whizees disappearing from lockers and pantries. The _“Got any food?”_ and _“Got any money?”_ and calling dibs on every morsel.

It was in the way Bart showed up at Jaime’s door, eyes watering and nose running, sobbing about how his grandfather asked him to cut back on the food, and it was in the way he nearly burst into tears of joy when Jaime heated a platter of leftover burritos while assuring him that he had a haven at the Reyes residence. And when it came time to leave, Bart refused. He pulled movies off the shelves and gathered a pile of crocheted throw blankets, saying, _“Let’s have a slumber party! We can make snacks and build blanket forts and it’llbecrashandbythewaydidImentionsnacks?”_ and began rooting through the cupboards for popcorn and chips before Jaime could answer. So Jaime let the speedster stay as they spent the night plowing through endless crinkling bags and the entire Spider-Man franchise. 

It was in the way food and Bart Allen came hand-in-hand. Jaime couldn’t remember the last time one came without the other. Whether it was traditional Mexican dinners with Jaime’s family, walking through the McDonald’s drive-thru, or a late-night post-mission pit stop at 7-11, there was no such thing as an excursion that didn’t end in the two boys gorging themselves and blowing their pocket change.

Jaime saw it in how Bart snatched Jon’s leftover noodles with zero remorse when the latter said he was full and finished it before he even stopped running, spraying cold noodle juice along his path.

It was there when Gar mixed milk, ketchup, and a raw egg, announcing that he’d give five dollars to anyone who drank the entire thing. To the team’s disgust, Bart nabbed the glass and downed the pink sludge without flinching. Then he took the five dollars and made a beeline for the vending machine.

And again when Connor and Saeby sat down to watch MasterChef. Bart plopped into the armchair beside them, sometimes dragging Jaime along to cheer for his favorite contestant. And when the archer and dog left, Bart stayed, flipping through Chopped and Rachael Ray and even foreign cooking shows. Whenever Jaime asked, he was met with a finger to his lips and an aggressive shush.

And yet again when Art’s water bottle disappeared from his room for the third time in the same week. The Atlantean was perplexed and frustrated because he kept needing to buy new ones. Jaime had his suspicions. They were confirmed when he found the bottles under Bart’s bed, filled to the brim as though the younger boy was preparing for a drought. Jaime didn’t say anything. He slipped the stolen bottles back where they were and pretended nothing happened.

Jaime thought it was just a Flash thing—a higher metabolism meant a greater need for food. Leftovers weren’t safe with a speedster on any team—Batman and Nightwing could vouch for that. But Barry and Wally ate out in the open, and with enough coaxing, they might share a bite with their friends.

That wasn’t the case with Bart.

One rainy evening, after training, Jaime found the speedster sitting on the roof with Tai’s bánh mì in one hand and a thermos of hot cocoa in the other. Bart’s eyes widened when he realized he wasn’t alone.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” he begged, emerald eyes resembling those of a scared puppy.

Jaime sighed. “I won’t.”

He wasn’t surprised to find that Bart hid food in all corners of his room. Socks were folded with tea bags. Sticks of gum acted as bookmarks. Jaime even found a Milky Way bar taped on the inside of a lamp. And of course, there were Art’s water bottles under the bed. Everything else was triple-padlocked, stored out of sight—Bart had mentioned something about a thieving otter.

**[The Impulse is displaying symptoms of food-related trauma.]**

Jaime gulped. Khaji Da was right, but that didn’t make the thought any less terrifying. Jaime didn’t even know where to _begin_. A Google search, maybe, but then what? Was he supposed to talk to Bart one-on-one? Or did this warrant a team intervention? This affected everyone, after all.

“It’ll be okay,” Jaime told himself. “There’s plenty of time to figure this out.”

They had a mission in Gotham that night. And Gotham missions always ended in one place.

As soon as the food arrived, Bart gobbled it all like there was no tomorrow. Perhaps it was a good thing he used his super-speed, because Jaime imagined it would’ve been a disgusting sight. In the time it took the rest to finish half a burger, the speedster had finished three plus an order of fries. Bart burped loudly and reached for his drink.

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure that’s enough?” he asked.

Bart perked up. “I can get more?”

“Sure, why not,” the Robin drawled.

“Crash!”

In the blink of an eye, Bart zoomed to the front counter and returned with two trays balanced on each arm. The greasy smell was almost nauseating. Jaime put down his food and sipped from his water cup.

Jon leaned over and whispered, “Should we be worried?”

“I dunno,” said Tai. “I’ve never seen him eat that much. Jaime?”

Jaime shook his head as Bart scarfed down a handful of chicken nuggets.

Damian scoffed. “You all are being ridiculous. He’ll be fine.”

For the first time in his life, Jaime was glad that his homework kept him up. It was one in the morning and he was on his umpteenth chemistry problem when the kitchen light flicked on and the faucet began running.

**[The Impulse is merely retrieving a glass of water.]**

Jaime rolled his eyes. “I can see that, _pendejo_.”

“Huh?” Bart turned around, water sloshing out of an overfilled glass.

“Nothing. Just _el escarabajo tonto_ ,” said Jaime.

“Mm, alright,” Bart hummed sleepily.

He set the glass on the counter and rubbed his temple, eyes droopy and unfocused. When Jaime placed a hand on Bart’s arm, the speedster’s skin was cold and clammy.

“ _¿Estás bien, hermano?_ You’re looking a little green there.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

Bart took two steps before doubling over, clutching his stomach, face contorted in pain. 

“Bart!”

Jaime barely caught him as he fell to his knees.

“I’m fine,” Bart insisted. “Just gotta go back to bed.” His hand moved to his mouth, desperately trying not to throw up.

“You’re not fine!” Jaime exclaimed. “Face it, _ese_. You’re stashing food in your room. You’re stealing. You’re eating in secret. Khaji says you consume _way_ more than the average speedster.”

“Please don’t be mad,” Bart whimpered.

“I’m not mad, I’m _worried_ ,” Jaime replied. “I don’t want you to keep getting sick like you are right now.”

Just then, Jon walked in. “Sick? Who’s sick?”

Tai popped out from behind him. “I thought speedsters don’t get sick.”

Jaime gestured to the fridge. “Jon, I think there’s a ginger ale in there.” He turned back to Bart. “ _Por favor,_ _chiquito_. Let us help.”

Jon handed him an open bottle. Bart almost gagged but managed to swallow the first sip. Tai rubbed small circles on his back, whispering comfort and instructions to breathe deep. A single question hung in the air like a spider on a silk.

Jaime broke the silence. “Bart, what is ‘scavenger’s rights’?”

Bart shifted, back pressed against the marble kitchen island. He took a deep breath and slowly sipped the drink. Glass beads threaded onto his lashes as he gazed at the fluorescent ceiling. Jaime scooted closer and wrapped an arm over the speedster’s bony shoulders; Tai and Jon sat across from them.

“It’s… complicated.”

“We have time.” Tai placed a hand on top of Bart’s.

Bart didn’t look at any of them as he said, “Where—er, _when_ —I came from, it was survive first, think later. You took whatever you could get.” He swallowed. “Whatever you didn’t eat right away, you hid for later. Nobody knew when their next find would be.”

To say Jaime’s heart broke would’ve been an understatement. As Bart told them about stolen crops, ash-dusted bread, and dented, expired cans dug from the rubble, Jaime pulled him closer than they’d ever been before. The speedster went on with horror stories of grown men weighing as much as children, rivers contaminated with radioactive chemicals, and the countless number of near-misses with Reach drones because he dared stay out to forage for a little extra. Jon, with his bleeding Kryptonian heart, burst into tears. Tai had only his solemn silence to offer.

Bart drew a knee to his chest. “When they cut the spending, I got scared. I thought…” He let out a shuddering exhale, body quivering like a leaf, and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I don’t want to go hungry again.”

Jon sniffled and wiped his nose with his sleeve. “We’re so sorry, Bart. We never realized.”

“I can’t imagine,” Tai mumbled.

“I’ll talk to Damian about the spending,” Jon added.

“Now that we know, we can figure out how to help. Rest assured, you’ll never have to think about food as long as we’re around.” Jaime brushed a sweat-damp auburn lock from Bart’s face. “I’m glad you told us, _hermano_.”

Bart smiled softly.

“I’m glad I did too.”

**Author's Note:**

> For more information on food insecurity and ways you can help, visit the United Nations World Food Programme at www.wfp.org.


End file.
